


All The Little Things

by mansikka



Series: Unkind Words And Never Meants [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Domestic, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, POV Alec, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-17 20:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12373695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Alec and Magnus have been arguing. Alec can't quite remember the reason why, but is determined to fix things.





	All The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) first in the series and nothing but fluff here - please see the series notes for what to expect. Headsup; there is a slight reference to Alec becoming immortal one day :)
> 
> x

Alec hates it when they argue.

It doesn’t matter that deep down he knows they’re a forever kind of deal, or that he doesn’t enjoy all the ways they make up once they’ve _had_ an argument. Nor does it matter who started the argument, whether the reason for that argument is big or small, if the argument is rooted in differences that are personal, professional, or political; he hates it, hates being on the receiving end of Magnus’ fury or disappointment, and aches at the thought of having either of those things for him as well.

Alec loves Magnus, loves everything about him, faults and flaws and powers and perfections, affectations and open-heartedness, and every single facet of him in between. He _loves_ him, and Alec knows he’s not got anything to compare it to, but he does know that _this_ kind of love doesn’t come all that often.  

It isn’t even because they’re going to get a forever that’s a _real_ kind of forever once they’re a few more years down the line, and Magnus is completely reassured that Alec _wants_ him that long; it’s that they slot together, fit to make a whole, are each other’s constant in a world that is so constantly full of uncertainties. Magnus completes him, as he completes Magnus, and yet they are still their own people. Alec knows it doesn’t get any better than that.  

But Magnus, Alec thinks with a pained swallow, Magnus does have a tendency to fly off the handle. Just as _he_  clings on to a stubborn point of view, even if evidence to the contrary tells him otherwise. For every one of Magnus’ _overreactions_ is Alec’s counter of pigheaded determination, and there will never fail to be a fallout from that.

Magnus is beautiful when he won’t budge on something, Alec thinks to himself with a rueful smile; he loves that unwavering quality about him, yet won’t listen when Magnus tries to tell him the same thing back.  

Magnus is beautiful when he’s raging, Alec adds, his shoulders sagging just at the thought of it; a storm whipping up around him as though drawn directly from a hurricane, and he is at the heart of it with his jaw clenched, his eyes glaring, shoulders tensed with his arms twitching as though about to send pulses of magic out wherever he intends to strike.  

Not that either of them would ever physically hurt one another, of course. Wound with unmeant cruelties or not thought out words, that, Alec thinks, hit harder and last longer than any physical impact at times, but still. The fight sags all anger out of Alec’s body the second he sees that look in Magnus’ eyes that says he’s hurting, because _he's_  gone too far, said too much.  

And while he doesn’t think they could ever be the kind of couple who would _not_ say what they were thinking for fear of judgement, reprimand, or them parting as a consequence, he _does_ think that they’d both hot-headed, both natural leaders used to being in control. And both harboring a wealth of insecurities that sometimes leave them lashing out more than they mean to—impacting them more than anything in the shifting world around them ever can.

They talk about those insecurities. They’re working them out, one at a time, and Alec will eternally be grateful that Magnus is, for the most part, so very patient with him for the things that keep him holding back sometimes. Alec strives to be just as patient with Magnus for his; even if they are deeper rooted having been held on to for so long.

Every last person who has ever, ever wounded Magnus in any way, Alec thinks then with a furious curve of his fists up into balls, he wants to find. Strike out at, punish for doing anything to hurt such a beautiful, kind, compassionate, giving man. None of them deserved his kindness, nor do they have the right for their actions to still be making him suffer after all this time. Magnus' admission of _I'm a lot to get used to_ still haunts _Alec_ ; Alec would happily crush everyone who's contributed to Magnus being able to say those words about himself—and _mean_ them. Although, Alec adds to himself with that guilt surging harder in his gut, he’s the one that’s hurting Magnus currently, so maybe it’s _him_ that needs to be on the receiving end of those fists.

The punchbag in the training room provides just that, and an hour later, Alec has punched out every last one of his arguments and counterarguments, every snarky retort and goading reply. And he loathes himself for it, like he does every single time they have an argument. They don’t have too many of them, thankfully, Alec groans to himself, because he can’t stand this feeling. Then wonders about couples who fight and argue all the time, and groans out loud.

He can’t even, now he thinks of it as he’s in the shower, turning up the heat a little too high so it can seep into his muscles, pinpoint the exact place where the argument found its start. Was it Magnus’ pointed though justified comment about Jace’s repeated barging in and flippancy during their joint council meetings, or his own retort that there were people showing up at their apartment unannounced for Magnus’ services all of the time?

Both things are true. And both things they each know need resolving. They try hard not to let their personal relationship bleed into their professional one—and the other way round, yet other people outside of _them_ don’t always show the same consideration. Jace is Alec’s parabatai, and brother, so it doesn’t even occur to him not to wander in to the council meeting with an apple in hand, perch on the edge of the desk next to Alec and argue his point for an unsanctioned mission while everyone else around the table glares at his back in contempt. And many of Magnus’ clients pay no attention to the fact that the loft is their _home_ , before it is Magnus’ place of business. Only a couple of nights ago, a client had all but knocked their door down at three in the morning, demanding a potion to make his mother-in-law’s voice less grating so he lost the urge for her to get laryngitis all the time.  

Alec snorts then, at the reminder of the desperate look on the man’s face, his fingers pulling repeatedly at his hair, announcing, _the weddings in a week, Magnus. I’m gonna have to call it all off if she doesn’t quit talking at me_. Alec had peeked out the crack in their bedroom door still half-asleep to see it, and gone straight back to bed with Magnus’ soothing words carrying, turning his mouth up into a smile.

 _Magnus_ , Alec thinks, aching for him, reaching out to turn off the shower and grimacing at the cubicle, spoilt with the one he shares with Magnus in their own home. He’s going to go home, Alec tells himself, roughly toweling himself dry, and he’s going to pamper him. Pick up some food—nothing too elaborate, since they both know his strengths don’t necessarily lie in cooking, and once Magnus has arrived home if he's not already there, will turn his phone off, ask Magnus to do the same, then do whatever he asks of him to put the smile back on his face.

If he lets him, Alec sighs to himself, his shoulders slumping a little. Maybe Magnus needs a little longer to be mad at him first.

Alec shakes his head, makes a mental list of all the things he wants to get on the way home, forces down the worried thought of Magnus not forgiving him that’s making even breathing uncomfortable, then promises himself no more than two hours of work before heading home.

* * *

The apartment is pristine. Every shelf and surface polished, every glass and mirror sparkling. Pillows perfectly fluffed and candles expertly centered on tables, the soft kind of lighting Alec knows Magnus favors, and the entire space filled with the scent of his favorite incense for when he comes home.

 _Please come home soon_ , Alec thinks to himself with his stomach dropping, having thrown himself through another shower after his excessive, guilt-fueled cleaning, standing and staring at himself in their bedroom mirror plucking at his shirt, wondering if this is the one Magnus likes him most in, or if one of the other choices scattered across the bed would be better.

Magnus is thoroughly amused by Alec’s cleaning routines. It’s not something he personally ever thinks about, since a quick wave of his fingers once a week or whenever things get untidy are about all the cleaning he has ever had to do. But for Alec, the physical action of cleaning does something to keep him balanced. A small gesture that he hopes says how much it means to him that Magnus would want him to share his home, and a demonstration of something he can _do_ for Magnus that no one else would do.

Not that there’s not all sorts of other things only he, as his boyfriend, can do for Magnus, Alec thinks with an entirely different ripple through his stomach that makes him change his shirt yet again; but it’s the thought behind it. That he would do anything for Magnus if he asked it of him—even get down on his hands and knees and clean. Not that Magnus has ever asked him to do any of it, of course.

Alec is carefully slotting his last shirt back into the closet when he hears the front door, and his stomach plummets, his heart races, and his throat clicks with concern. He takes a breath, quietly closes the closet door, then braces for whatever stage of forgiveness Magnus is currently in, and heads out their bedroom to see him.

Magnus comes to a standstill as Alec steps out, eyeing him coolly, though Alec can see the way he’s torn for it as his gaze sweeps out across the apartment, he inhales the scent in the air, and the corners of those currently harsh eyes soften, joined by the slightest twitch along his lips.

“Hey,” Alec stumbles out, his heart pounding, hand clenching and unclenching down by his side.

“You’ve been busy,” Magnus observes, his voice that tone Alec knows means he’s in trouble, and desperately starts thinking of things to say to bring the normal, loving one back.

“I—”

“I need a shower,” Magnus announces with a spin on his heel, walking away from Alec without even another look.

Alec wants to follow, to at least call out and ask if he’s eaten, to maybe fix him some tea; do anything that might be simple but enough to bring Magnus back to him.

He settles for tweaking pillows, rearranging the two bouquets of flowers he’s brought for him—technically for the apartment if he needs to argue the point, but all with Magnus in mind. Continuously turning his longing gaze towards the bathroom door.  

When Magnus does reappear, Alec is perched on the very edge of the couch waiting, standing the second he comes in to view, and nervously twisting his hands. He’d half-expected to see Magnus all made up, ready to waltz straight back out the apartment announcing he was out for the night—not that he normally does things like that, of course. But Alec is relieved, more than he can ever voice, to see Magnus make-up free, barefoot like he is himself, and wearing loose lounge pants and an open shirt. It means he’s willing to share his space with him, at least, if nothing else.    

“Are you hungry? ‘Cos I didn’t know what to get. But I can go pick up anything you want, or—”

“Pizza,” Magnus announces without letting him finish, flourishing his fingers then seconds later balancing two large pizza boxes in his hands. From the place that is their favorite, Alec notes, hoping that too is a good sign.

“I’ll… get plates,” Alec says, watching as Magnus drops the boxes down on the coffee table in front of their couch, then turns to prepare himself a drink. He doesn’t wait to see if he’s being offered one, but his stomach does give a violent jolt for seeing where Magnus has sat himself when he returns. On the very end of the couch, as far away as it’s possible to get.

Magnus doesn’t say a word as he hands him a plate, but he has prepared Alec a drink that’s positioned on the table in front of where he wants Alec to sit. With an entire cushion between them that makes Alec’s heart sink.

They eat in silence, with Alec starting up a hundred different things he wants to say, but each one dying on his tongue before he can form it. And the moment Magnus closes the lid of the second pizza box to say that he’s finished, Alec is scooping up their plates and the boxes, taking a little more time than necessary to clean things up and plate the remaining pizza up for later, then cursing himself for killing time.  

Magnus is cross-legged sipping at his martini when Alec returns, eyes carefully schooled away from Alec’s direction even as he sinks down himself. And Alec is mad, mostly at himself, that they would be like this with each other after all this time. He takes a sip of his own drink for courage, then turns to face him, without planning a single word he’s going to say.

“I have… made arrangements, so that my clients know, in future, that they are only to come here when they are invited,” Magnus says, still without looking at him, “that if there is any urgency that needs my attention, then they are to call first; but that my phone will be on silent outside of, what I think, is reasonable working hours,”

So that _is_ what they were arguing about, Alec thinks, half-relieved for having something to work with.

“I told Jace he isn’t to interrupt our council meetings in future unless he’s there on invitation,” he says, taking another sip of his drink, “that anything that’s so urgent it can’t wait, he has permission to deal with in my absence. To a point,”

Magnus’ lips twitch at that for a fleeting second before he’s reining the almost-smile in.

“I have also told Raphael that he is, while always welcome in our home, not to use the place as an extension of those council meetings to… further his own, personal demands,” he adds, conflict rippling across his face before he hides it again. “And that it is, of course, your home— _our_ home, before anything else,”

Raphael probably doesn’t mean to breeze in the way he does, Alec thinks to himself then, remembering all the times he’s looked at Alec as though _he_ is the one that’s intruding. It’s just the presence he has about him, and since he has, on more than one occasion, been more than… hostile towards Raphael, then perhaps he has a reason to view Alec with the cautious disdain he sometimes has. They both need to try a little harder in that relationship, Alec thinks to himself with a sigh, and nods in what he hopes Magnus knows is gratitude.

Magnus nods back, so at least Alec knows he’s looking at him.

“That vampire you were talking with,” Alec says then, blurting it out and knowing from the look on Magnus’ face he needs to keep talking, “at The Hunter’s Moon. When we were there on—”

“A date night,” Magnus finishes for him with a raised eyebrow and not all that much amusement, “when I had gone to order us more drinks, and you accused me of _flirting_ with her at the bar,”

“I—”

“As that moronic _fool_ cornered you at the pool table and offered to _improve your technique_ ,” Magnus adds, his voice pitted with bitter sarcasm and more than a touch of jealousy, “by all but pressing you into the table,”

“He… got the message,” Alec stutters out, remembering the surprised look on the warlock’s face when Alec had first squeezed the fingers he was pressing into his ass, then spun him round with his arm wedged behind his back, only to come face to face with Magnus returning from the bar with their drinks in hand, the very epitome of _if looks could kill_ written all over his face.

“He did,” Magnus agrees, leaving Alec wondering exactly how Magnus had dealt with him afterwards, “and I wasn’t flirting,”

Alec thinks of the vampire draping herself over Magnus’ side. Then thinks of Camille. Wonders if it’s because of Camille he has such unnecessary mistrust of vampires, or if it’s just their nature to take whatever they want, how they’re naturally inclined.  

“I know you weren’t,” Alec replies, and he _does_ know it. He also knows neither of them have any need for the jealousy that sometimes rises up in them both, and that it’s another thing they’re going to have to work on.

“And as for your accusation that I _overreact_ to everything,” Magnus continues, looking at him properly for the first time since arriving in the apartment, with anger still dancing behind his eyes, “I would counter that, if you were not to _overthink_ and attempt to plan every one of our conversations when you know they are going to be difficult, then I wouldn’t have things to overreact _to_ all of the time,”

Magnus is being both unfair and entirely justified, Alec thinks with his heart sinking all over again. The root of this argument comes, as it usually does for them, from all that overthinking and not enough talking. They are so open and honest with each other with everything most of the time, that really, they should be better at that.

“I take my work home just as much as you do,” Alec sighs, remembering more of the words that had been the catalyst for their fight.

“You do,” Magnus agrees, easily, as though he’s been planning his own responses. Which makes Alec smile; they’re both so similar in so many ways with that overthinking, overreacting, over-worrying thing they do.  

“And I really did have too many papers spread out over the desk spilling everywhere,” Alec adds, picturing the mess he’d made, and the alarm in Magnus’ eyes.

“That potion that was brewing on that desk, that you almost sent crashing to the floor with all your _paperwork_ , would have been lethal, were one drop to have spilt on you,” Magnus tells him with reproach. Alec sighs, nodding in agreement.

“And that was the reason you got mad at me. Not because I was slowing down the process so you wouldn’t have it ready in time for that… _client_ ,”

Who happens to be an alarmingly good-looking Seelie who has no qualms about revealing his attraction to Magnus. The fact that he couldn’t lie didn’t even come into it; his eyes had been undressing him the entire time he was there in their living room—even with the daggers Alec was sending him.

“I don’t see anyone else but you,” Magnus tells him then, soft, because it’s true, and teasing because he knows exactly where Alec’s thoughts have gone.

“I don’t _need_ anyone else but you,” Alec counters, relief beginning to wash through him for the corners of Magnus’ mouth beginning to turn up into a smile.  

“Remind me why we were arguing again?” Magnus asks then, an arch to his voice that rises in time with his eyebrow. Alec thinks about giving him the reasons then decides against it, instead sliding across the couch and dropping his face down into his neck with a relieved sigh.

“I’d prefer not to,” he mumbles, turning enough so he can brush his mouth over his skin, instantly feeling relief the moment Magnus wraps his arms around him and leans into him with his own sigh.

“ _Shadowhunter_ ,” Magnus grumbles, mirth-filled, into his ear.

“My _favorite_ warlock,” Alec retorts, smiling at Magnus’ indignant snort.

“I would hope I am your _only_ warlock,”

“You are,” Alec agrees, nuzzling against him, “you’re my only _everything_ ,”

“Alexander,” Magnus sighs, full of amusement, affection, and more than anything else, love.  

Alec ducks the fraction he needs to kiss him, and presses closer still, humming at the feeling he gets of coming home, the moment their lips touch.

 


End file.
